


your beta-carotene

by clonewarsandchill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Flirting, Cooking, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clonewarsandchill/pseuds/clonewarsandchill
Summary: “I’d eat it if you stopped putting in carrots!” Grevious snarls, leaning down with his fore-hands on the kitchen bar so that he can caterwaul his complaints directly into Obi-Wan’s breathing space. “They’redisgusting!”





	your beta-carotene

“ _Kenobi_ ,” Grevious growls, bearing down on him with the glittering, narrow-eyed look that Obi-Wan has come to associate with his more murderous tendencies. There’s no genuine threat to pair with the expression, of course; the Clone Wars were a long time ago, and besides the occasional nightmare or inquisitive Skywalker offspring, they have no bearing on the present.

At least, that’s the line Obi-Wan gives when pressed on the matter.

It would be ridiculous for Grevious to try to kill him right now anyway. Obi-Wan is wearing an apron and currently elbows-deep in the sink, rinsing vegetables for supper, and besides that, Grevious hasn’t quadruple-wielded anything as dangerous as stolen lightsabers in years. (He had, for one particularly  _memorable_  anniversary, quadruple-wielded two balloons, a bouquet, and a box of candy, but all of it had gotten tossed over a bridge during one of their infamous couple squabbles.) The most he uses his clawed hands for these days is carrying groceries up from Obi-Wan’s ship, or menacing noisy children in the market while laughing maniacally. (He is no longer allowed to do the shopping, hence the grocery carrying.)

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous,” Obi-Wan says lightly, using his hip to close a cupboard as he passes it, hands full with chopped vegetables, “Using my last name like that. Are you trying to rattle me?”

Grevious coughs, indignant. “I don’t like carrots,  _Obi-Wan_.” He manages to enunciate Obi-Wan’s first name with almost as much unnecessary flair as his last name.

“You don’t like much of _anything_ ,” Obi-Wan reminds him tartly, dumping his handfuls – carrots included – into an already bubbling pot. “Might I  _remind_  you, as you do me at  _every opportunity_ , that you do not require such ridiculously  _fleshy_  needs as  _sustenance_ to survive, and thus aren’t obligated to eat my cooking?”

“ _I’d eat it if you stopped putting in carrots_!” Grevious snarls, leaning down with his fore-hands on the kitchen bar so that he can caterwaul his complaints directly into Obi-Wan’s breathing space. “They’re _disgusting_!”

Obi-Wan begins to add spices, favoring flavors far too bland for Grevious’s picky palette. “Qymaen, darling,” he says, winding him up on purpose now because he’s the same man he’s been for decades, “The day I plan a meal entirely to your specifications will be the same day that Anakin Skywalker wins an argument with his wife.”

Grevious, who’s taken an odd liking to Padme in the past few years, chuckles hoarsely. “That will never happen –  _but you will withhold the carrots next time, Obi-Wan_!” he adds sharply, head ducking lower so they’re eye level.

“No I won’t,” Obi-Wan says plainly, “I  _like_  carrots. And  _I’m_  the one doing the cooking.”

He knows exactly what Grevious is going to do, but it doesn’t stop him from yelping when it occurs. Grevious tromps heavily around to his side of the bar, upper body still lowered like a bipedal reptile on the hunt, and before Obi-Wan can defend himself – perhaps with a spatula – Grevious’s metal paws catch him around the middle and hoist him into the air. “No carrots,” Grevious growls right into his face.

Obi-Wan kisses the cool plate of metal just beneath Grevious’s eyes. “Alright,” he yields, enjoying the faint scratch of his greying beard on Grevious’s sleek face, “No carrots.”

Grevious makes a grumbled, faintly wet noise like a purr, eyes closing in feline pleasure at Obi-Wan’s open affection. “And no peas,” he adds, rumbling.

Obi-Wan laughs, crossing his legs at the ankles, and cups his hands around Grevious’s face. “And no peas,” he agrees, laughing, “I suppose after all these years, I can give you the satisfaction of one  _small_  surrender.”

“We shall see,” Grevious threatens, back to giving Obi-Wan his murder eyes, and Obi-Wan has the foresight to flick the stove off with the force before Grevious carries him out of the kitchen, feet  _tak-tak_ ing across the floor like an oversized, belligerent metal bird. “I know of more than one way to wring a surrender out of you,  _Kenobi_.”

“How kinky,” Obi-Wan says dryly, sarcasm prompting an ironic uptilt to his eyebrow. Grevious kicks their bedroom door open – there are already several poorly replastered cracks on the sorry thing, its warped hinges creaking miserably – and tosses Obi-Wan on the bed. He poses himself on his elbows, self-aware enough in his early fifties to know he’s always been a pretty little thing and always will be, and waits for Grevious to crawl up onto the bed after him. “Hello there,” he murmurs, palm sliding over Grevious’s chest to feel the distant thud and whisper of hearts and lungs. “An awful lot of fuss over some  _vegetables_ , don’t you think, darling?”

“You mock me now,  _Jedi_ ,” sneers Grevious, pinning Obi-Wan down with his weight, “But you will be  _begging_  soon enough.”

“You say the most romantic things,” Obi-Wan sighs, and laughs when Grevious tears his apron off in frustration.

The next day, he dumps an entire sack of raw carrots onto a plate and gives it to Grevious for lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Tumblr](https://clonewarsandchill.tumblr.com/post/163581205116/your-beta-carotene-greviousobi-wan). You can pry this crackship from my cold metal hands.


End file.
